A Different Perspective
by NirCele
Summary: Glorfindel, the twins, and some accompanying warriors ride out to escort Celebrian's returning party back to Imladris, but they don't return the same. Nothing, in fact, will ever be the same. The rescue of Celebrian from Erestor's point of view. Rated for disturbing imagery.


**Posting a few days early, but I'm sure you won't mind. Happy birthday (or anniversary), Lin - may you have the best you ever had! You're one of my closest friends (here and RL), and I'm so glad you joined this site. This story was written just for you, though it may have ended up a little different than I had in mind.**

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Erestor knew the moment he saw Glorfindel rushing down the corridor toward him that something was wrong. The Balrog-slayer looked in a great hurry, his hair tied back hastily into a golden braid, and he was strapping a sword to his waist as he trotted down the hallway. He slowed when he saw Erestor, his brow furrowing.

Erestor might have asked him what was happening, but Glorfindel beat him to it. He tried to smile reassuringly, but it looked more like he was caught about the neck and forced to it.

"Don't worry," Glorfindel said, stopping as he reached Erestor. "I'm just riding out with the boys to meet Celebrían."

"Mm," said Erestor, eyeing him in a bit of suspicion. "Is there an exact reason for that, besides the fact that it's been a little more dangerous with the wildling orcs lately?"

Glorfindel shrugged, and he might have run a hand through his hair, as was his habit, but he couldn't because it was tied back. "Lord Elrond has a…feeling."

"A feeling." Erestor quirked an eyebrow and stepped aside. "I must not delay you, then."

Glorfindel nodded his thanks and continued down the hallway, but he was stopped by Erestor's voice.

The adviser sounded a little more worried this time. "You will be careful, yes? And keep the boys from acting up?"

Glorfindel smiled again, and this time it was more true as he glanced back at his friend. "Of course, Erestor – and I would never let those twins get into trouble while I was with them."

Erestor wasn't quite reassured, but he was still at the front gate to bid the party of over two dozen farewell. Elladan and Elrohir rode out, exchanging jokes and laughing, and waved their sister a merry farewell as their horses cantered over the bridge. Glorfindel, more serious, turned in his saddle to raise a hand as Erestor watched them leave. The other warriors with them didn't really consider it dangerous – their faces were clear of worry and they rode with confidence.

Erestor, his hand lowering as the horses left his view, wondered quietly what they would be when they returned.

He should have worried more.

The company of almost twenty-four elves returned with less than ten, most remaining elves wounded. Erestor was directing the hectic activity that came with helping the injured to the Healing Halls, trying not to think on what had caused this, when he saw Elladan and Elrohir. Their faces were broken and streaked with tears as they stumbled from their horses, going toward Lord Elrond, who was already rushing to them.

And the next moment, Glorfindel rode over the bridge. His golden head was bowed, the reins on the horse loose and it stopped with a sliding motion when he sat back. He held something crumpled and small in his arms, torn dirty lace fluttering as he dismounted carefully from the stallion. He turned toward the House and Erestor saw in a horrified second what the bundle in his arms was.

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Glorfindel had kept his promise – Elladan and Elrohir were safe, but their mother was another state entirely. When the Balrog-slayer had gone past him with Celebrían held lightly in his arms, Erestor had caught sight of her face and thought for a terrified instant that she was dead – her face would have been utterly white if it hadn't been for the blood streaking her face and her unseeing eyes.

Erestor would have gone after him if Elrond and his sons had not already rushed past him, and then he had seen Arwen, her face pale and horrified, waver as she tried to take a step. He went to her side, catching her before she could fall, and snapped off a few orders to his shocked assistant before taking Arwen to her rooms. He couldn't think of anything else that he could do to help _now_ , and he knew Lord Elrond would not want his innocent daughter to see what had happened – and he had an aching feeling he knew what _had_ happened.

Then, and only then, did he go to the Healing Room where Lady Celebrían lay. He found Elladan and Elrohir across the hall in the alcove by a window, sitting curled up on a settee and holding each other as they stared emptily as the door, tear tracks drying on their face. There was nothing he could do there, now, so Erestor stepped out of the way of a rushing healer carrying a bucket of bloodied water out of the room, and then he went into the room.

He almost choked at the smell inside – there was the coppery scent of blood, the sharp tang of various herbs, and the vile stench of poison. His stomach clenched at that last thought, but he forced his face to remain calm and moved to the side as another female healer ducked past him with a handful of wet cloths. There were more bustling healers in the room, preparing cloths, strange sharp needled instruments, boiling pots of foul-looking water, and handfuls of leafy herbs.

Refusing to look at the bed just _yet_ , with Lord Elrond barking orders to the assistants in the room, Erestor willed himself to remain silent and not distract anyone. He saw Glorfindel, staring unseeingly at the rushing healers, his jaw set as his fists clenched and unclenched. The Elda's eyes were tight, but filled with stunned tears, and when Erestor saw someone stumble as they went past him with a small pot of salve, he knew what he had to do. Making his way across the room and navigating around the rushing healers, Erestor caught his friend by the arm and shook him slightly until he looked at him.

"You should go out," Erestor said quietly, and was barely heard over the banging of items and the orders issued by Elrond. "We're both hindering the help here."

"I can't," Glorfindel said in a harsh whisper. "I just _can't_."

Erestor waited a long moment until finally those blue eyes fell, and Glorfindel let himself be led from the room. They stopped far enough from the door that they wouldn't encumber the healers still hurrying in and out the open door, but still close enough to hear what was going on.

They were silent for a long while, the only sound the rushing of others' feet and healing items being prepared in the room, but finally Erestor spoke.

"Are you well?" It was the only thing he could think to say, and though he was truly troubled by what was going on inside in that room, he had to know if Glorfindel was wounded as well.

"Am I well?" Glorfindel's voice broke and then he laughed, but it was a terrified laugh. "Yes! _I_ am fine!" He turned away, but Erestor caught his shoulder, and he stayed.

Erestor glanced behind him, at the two young Peredhil huddling together on the window seat, and he drew in a deep breath. "Glorfindel…" he said quietly, and with an immeasurable amount of sadness. "I cannot even begin to think what you have seen there, what you have had to do… But Glorfindel, this has not happened before. We cannot surmise what is going to happen, if she will heal – and so, please, you cannot break. The consequences of this are nothing we can think of now. We _must_ help Lord Elrond, the…the boys, Arwen. We must be their support when they have none."

"Such encouraging words," Glorfindel said in quiet, bitter whisper. "But how I am to help? _How can I help them?_ "

Erestor waited, silently.

Glorfindel gasped something that sounded close to a harsh laugh. "What happened there? Oh yes, the orcs drew us into a trap – she was the bait. The others with us were either shot down in the first attack or wounded when they charged us. The twins made it to her, and Elladan protected her while Elrohir tried to heal her." His voice had slowly dropped lower and lower, and Erestor could barely hear him by the time he finished. "And I _killed all of the orcs_. I don't regret it. I wish I could have hurt them more – found all of them and ripped them _apart._ "

Erestor closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, there was nothing but steely resolve. "I wouldn't regret that either, Glorfindel. You did as much as you could do to help then – now, it is different." He flicked his eyes sideways. "Go, comfort the boys, or tell Arwen what has happened; I took her to her rooms."

Glorfindel took in a deep breath, then set his shoulders and walked away. Erestor turned toward the door of the Healing Room, passed a wearied hand over his face, and then walked back in.

His job now was not only to keep Imladris running while Lord Elrond was occupied, but to comfort them. What else could he do?

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 ***squints at everyone* Just because this story is for the amazing LadyLindariel doesn't mean you don't have to review. I value each and every review, and will make sure to reply to you. Thank you for reading, and I do hope you can make time to drop a line or two, whether you enjoyed the story or not.**

 **(There's also a short message on my profile you may want to check out.)**


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